


Power Surge

by Allypallycally1



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers S.P.D.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Short & Sweet, Sickfic, powers, puking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 11:13:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10920666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allypallycally1/pseuds/Allypallycally1
Summary: Half the city had been completely destroyed in the collateral of another one of Grumm’s giant robots and its battle with the SPD rangers. The headquarters was under lockdown until the all-clear was given when there were no longer any further possible threats. All over people were angry and miserable and damn near suicidal.That left Bridge, local empath, and energy reader, puking up any morsel of food he had managed to consume in two days.-An old thing I never thought I'd finish but here you go.





	Power Surge

Half the city had been completely destroyed in the collateral of another one of Grumm’s giant robots and its battle with the SPD rangers. The headquarters was under lockdown until the all-clear was given when there were no longer any further possible threats. All over people were angry and miserable and damn near suicidal. 

 

That left Bridge, local empath and energy reader, puking up any morsel of food he had managed to consume in two days.

 

Bridge’s stomach had been churning since he docked his Zzord in the loading bay, and sitting through a debriefing with Cruger yelling their ears off about “disappointing this” and “lack of strength that” meant that Bridge had a lot of time to stand uncomfortably and let the energies from across the city leak past his barriers and fester in his chest. The colours had been tumbling over one another, furious oranges slopping in with hopeless greens and bitter purples. The harder he tried to swallow the feelings down and bury them with Cruger’s angry barks, the more fiercely they would slither up his throat and over his skin.

 

“And now that you have completely disgraced the name of the SPD operation, you are dismissed to think about how you are going to deal with the damage you’ve created.” Cruger had briefly made eye contact with Bridge, but it was broken swiftly as Bridge had saluted- a jarring action that made the energies begin to gyrate in his body- and left as fast as he could. 

 

Afterhalf-heartedd but rapid excuse for his friends, Bridge practically ran to his dorm and barely made it to the toilet before he expelled his stomach contents into the clinically white bowl. 

 

And that is where he sat now, heaving pathetically as his body slumped against the toilet seat, as with every initial convulsion, the colours would seep deeper and deeper into his muscles, bones, and core. Although his body seemed to be doing its best to push out all the unhappy and unwanted auras that he had absorbed beyond his control, all that was coming out was bile and some half digested cafeteria food. 

 

Bridge had stripped his uniform jacket, which lay crumpled between the door and the doorframe when he had simultaneously shucked it off and slammed the bathroom door shut before collapsing down to the hard tiled floor in front of the toilet. His green undershirt was sweaty from his battle as well as his discomfort in his body, and his issued boots were uncomfortable on his feet and around his ankles.

 

He didn’t know how long he had been there, but when Bridge had finally found the courage and strength to breathe deep enough and ease his muscles out of their tightly coiled state enough to stop the dry heaves and slump against the toilet seat, he turned to find the rest of the rangers gathered at the door of the bathroom. Jack and Syd had even taken to sitting on the floor, leaning against the doorframe as they waited. Sky held Bridge’s jacket in his crossed arms as he stood next to Z just outside the bathroom.

 

“Hey… guys,” Bridge said, putting a wobbly smile on as he weakly tried to ignore the almost debilitating colours writhing in his body, and the rapidly growing headache that was erupting behind his eyelids.

 

“Having a rough time there, kiddo?” Z asked, a look of sympathy coming over her face as Bridge rubbed his face into his elbow, trying to somewhat ease the pressure in his head and the colours that were beginning to flood the edges of his vision, as well as wipe away the sweat from the exertion.

 

“Mm-hmm.” The toilet flushed beneath Bridge’s face, and the thundering noise was enough to get him to sit up a bit from his slouched position. Bridge moved to lean back against the wall beside the toilet, his gloved hand came up to press into his eyes. “Been a tough week, hasn’t it, guys? Firstly there were no tater tots on Tuesday, then the coffee machine wasn’t being hot enough,” Bridge mumbled to his friends.

 

Someone grabbed his other gloved hand and pressed a cup of water into it, urging him to take a sip. He did. It didn’t help much with anything. 

 

“... Then that cadet set off the hazardous substance alarm in Kat’s lab, man everyone was so annoyed at that poor kid.” Bridge let a cringe slip out at the raw and itching pink that reared its head in memory of that day. 

 

“Which one is brightest, Bridge?” Sky asked.

 

“... Orange.” Bridge replied, moving his hand to scrape through his hair as the headache throbbed through his skull. 

 

There was a small muttering by the door of the bathroom, and he was asked gently by Jack what orange meant, again. 

 

“People are really angry at us,” Bridge supplied in response, which he supposed worked as an answer. 

 

“Yeah, Cruger made that pretty clear.” Syd said, keeping her voice down. 

 

At that moment there was a knock on the door to the room which Bridge and Sky shared, and Bridge was aware of Sky going to answer the door. A young sounding voice rung through the room, loud yet lacking confidence. The younger cadet had been sent by Commander Cruger to fetch Ranger Carson immediately. 

 

“Ranger Carson  is unavailable right now, please relay that message to the Commander, cadet,” Sky said, moving to close the door in front of the cadet. 

 

The door was stopped, and Bridge heard the voice take on a more urgent tone, the panic in the boy making Bridge’s fingers feel like lead. 

 

“Please, sir, the Commander made it clear that it is imperative that Ranger Carson report in immediately.”

 

“Carson has already been debriefed.”

 

Bridge pushed himself up, waving off the reaching hands of his teammates as he stabilized himself and swallowed the acidity in his throat.

 

“Leave the kid alone, Sky. I’m coming. Might as well see what Cruger wants.” Bridge moved to pass Sky into the bright hallway to follow the cadet, but Sky placed a hand on Bridge’s chest and stopped him.

 

“Bridge, you’re not-”

 

“I’m good, Sky. I can deal with whatever Cruger wants and I’ll deal with myself later. It’s not like I don’t know how to work with my powers, I’m the one who lives with them,” Bridge said, pulling his jacket from Sky’s fist and dodging past the blue ranger and nodding to the cadet, Rumner, as his badge said, and headed toward the control centre.

 

The control centre is, from Bridge’s point of view, a small space filled with stress and fatigue, and this presses in on Bridge whenever he enters. If it were any other day, during which he normally has much more mental energy than he has right now, he would be able to easily guard himself against these feelings, he could even do it in his sleep- and has done many times. Today was not a day that supplied Bridge with that kind of energy, in fact it was the opposite. This day was sapping energy from Bridge like a tap on full, and he could feel that he was running dangerously low, probably not even enough left in him to get through this lecture from Doggy. 

 

“Cadet Carson,” Cruger greeted as Bridge saluted in front of him. “At ease.”   
  


“Apologies for the delay, sir. I assumed the debriefing was the end of my shift and B-Squad and I were planning to rest during this evening.”

 

“Carson you should know that there are no ‘shift hours’ in this line of work.” Cruger raised an eyebrow. “I need not remind you yet again that B-Squad is the last line of defense against Grumm and his attacks on our planet.”

 

“No, sir. It was a joke.” Bridge put a smile on his face, squeezing his wrist behind him to try and ease the crackle in his joints from the tense energies in the room. “A little ‘last resort’ humour.”

 

“Not appreciated.” Cruder growled and Bridge cringed. “Now, I called you in cadet because your performance today was below your average level, and I want to know why. Can you tell me?”

 

“Yes sir.” Bridge straightened his back and rolled his shoulders in discomfort, the back of his head and his neck and spine were buzzing painfully as the headquarters building oozed fatigue and melancholy acceptance of today’s events. 

 

Silence between the two males stretched on, until eventually Doggy spoke. “Well?” He said, his lip curling in impatience. “Is there a problem, cadet?”

 

“Sir, with all due respect, I said I could tell you, but I did not agree that I actually will tell you.”

 

“Carson,” Doggy barked, irritation shooting through Bridge’s ribs like lightning and eliciting a hiss from the man. “This is no time for your language games and I am in no mood to tip-toe around these issues. Now I would like you to give me a reason for your poor performance today and a promise that it will not be repeated in the future.”

 

“Alright, Sir,” Bridge relented, fighting his muscles against letting him curl in on himself. His vision wavered as he continued. “My poor performance today was on account of my energy reading ability experiencing a power surge. I was unfocused and uncomfortable. However, because this is a phenomenon beyond my conscious control, I unfortunately cannot guarantee that it will not happen again in the future, Sir.” 

 

Doggie’s tirade of following emotions closed in around Bridge’s lungs, and he wheezed pathetically in an effort to contain the coughing fit that clawed at his throat. To Bridge’s luck (that is, no luck at all) an older cadet chose that moment to skid into the control room. 

 

“C-commander Cruger! Sir we have just discovered three serious casualties on the west wing second floor. It seems they were trapped in the lockdown.” 

 

The Cadet’s blind panic hit Bridge in the back of his head like a bullet, and his sight suddenly tunnelled, a pinpoint focus on Doggie’s distracted glare, before his eyes rolled up in his head and Bridge fell to his knees. The coughing ripped up his oesophagus and rattled his chest as he blindly caught himself on his hands and knees. 

 

Bridge felt hands on his shoulders, and the anxiety of his teammates exploded in his solar plexus like acid. He gagged, and he screwed his eyes shut against the tears that stung his eyes. His mind was spinning, he had lost feeling in his hands and feet and he couldn’t remember how to breath. All he knew was that people were  _ feeling _ . And it  _ hurt _ . 

 

Bridge felt vertigo hit him like a wall, and a loud hissing sound drilled into his ears and left him squirming. The hissing sound ended with a clang, and suddenly, beautifully, Bridge felt his pains vanish. All the emotions disappeared and Bridge’s vision wobbled back slowly, his heart rate began to slow and his fingers began to tingle with feeling again. He gasped in air into his liberated lungs, and blinked into the white ceiling above him. 

 

Dropping his head to the side, finding that he was lying down, Bridge saw the anticipatory faces of his squad pressed to the thick glass separating them from him. Dr Kat stood just to the side of them, pen poised above the clipboard as she watched Bridge with a carefully schooled expression, and Bridge was immensely happy to not be able to tell what she was truly feeling. He saw her raise a perfectly defined eyebrow in question, and Bridge raised his hand to give her a thumbs up, a weak smile on his lips. 

  
He saw the B-Squad sigh through relieved smiles, and Bridge let himself sigh too, reveling in the feeling of his own emotions. 

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, it's old and stuff but I like to explore how a character's greatest strength (eg powers) can double as their greatest weakness.
> 
> Tell me what you thought about the characters, the jargon, or tell me how you would have done it differently.
> 
> ( atomic-bobo.tumblr.com )


End file.
